The Mountains of the Eldritch Sea

By Harry Lang

A collection of short stories from the land and seas of the mythical planet Thal, where the priests of the First Faith do battle with the worshippers of the demonic Ultra-gods. Prophecies and miracles are pitted against treachery and brutality but the greatest power is found in the smallest things. By award winning author Harry Lang.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harry Lang
• Release date: Feb 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301407125

Harry Lang

Harry Lang was born in a suburb of Philadelphia, PA back when Eisenhower was President and no one had visited space. One of his earliest memories is watching John Glenn being strapped into a Mercury capsule on TV; he has lived in the future ever since. Generous doses of Star Trek, Ray Bradbury and the rest of the usual suspects sparked a life long interest in science fiction. Writing has long been part of a broad resume of artistic interests; decades of devoted effort have produced a truly impressive collection of rejections. It wasn’t until his first acceptance by the online publication Bewildering Stories that Harry realized he might not be crazy after all. “My Name is Angela”, which appears in L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future Volume 28, is his first professional sale. When not actually writing or attending to the myriad necessities of life here on Earth, Harry enjoys teaching creative writing to small groups of home schooled students. Harry graduated from Philadelphia College of Art with a B.F.A. in Painting in 1981. He is currently a review editor for Bewildering Stories. He lives in Prospect Park, PA with his brilliant wife and six brilliant kids and works as a technical designer for a gargantuan aerospace corporation.

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The Mountains of the Eldritch Sea

By Harry Lang

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Harry Lang

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

To The Finder

The Rigger’s Report

The Whirlpool

The Spite House

The Song of the Night Bird

The Wind House

Her Scarlet Fingers, Her Amber Eyes

What Is God, That Thou Art Mindful of Him?

The Mountains of the Eldritch Sea

To the Finder

It is the end of the world. Like the wandering ruffian of the children’s rhyme from the Way Old Days who shed his amber fur, then his indigo fur before losing all four arms and all three eyes, so has our world been shorn of all beauty, crippled beyond remedy and blinded. Where once there was air there is poison. Fields once adorned in their lacy patterns of fragrant grass and towering sunflowers now lie awash in frigid ooze beneath brackish seas. People once humble and content amid glories of surpassing achievement now cower in dank black tunnels and tremble before brutish, pagan masters.

We, the last monks of the Certain God, forswearing the hideous security of the tunnels and resisting unto blood the advance of the filth and mire admitted to our world through the treachery of The Monster’s own disciples and the indifference of Contented Man hereby undertake to conceal, at diverse places across the face of the world, certain objects, documents and literary works to be found at such a time as Man shall begin to bemoan his debased condition, wonder at his origins and acknowledge those truths from which there is no ultimate escape. This vault, here in the foundations of the artisan’s city which shall always be known as Hkhmadd, holds true historical accounts told in the style of tales and stories. Read them. Believe them. Be moved by them. Waste neither time nor tears mourning the days chronicled here; rather be propelled into the sun of the future of our people, the good labor of Setting Things Right and the warm embrace of reconciliation with Our Father Who waits On High.

The Last Abbot of the Brothers of the Sun

The Rigger’s Report

Your Majesty’s humble subject, Master of the Imperial Vermillion Junk, memorializes the Throne regarding the parting of the Veil of Heaven. Master Rigger Tirgash reports a dream bearing the marks of prophecy, which came to the second ordinary rigger under his command. In the words of the second ordinary rigger the dream was thus:

"On the eve of the celebration of the revival of the insects from their winter nap I was asleep in my rack beneath the new moon. The sea was calm. The sky was clear and spattered with stars and planets.

"Upon entering the world of sleep I found myself at the port of Gadarr, east across the Eldritch Sea. All things are altered in dreams but the strangeness of the port was of such alarming aspect as remained with me long after waking. The port was a silent place laid through dark tunnels beneath the ground. The air was old and oppressive with odors of fish’s blood, alchemists’ potions and sulfurous vapors.

"At the crumbling stone quays upon the black, still water sat great iron vessels with no sails or oars. The form of these craft resembled monsters of the deep and they were made for travel upon or beneath the waves. Their sides were great hatches, hinged on top and swung open, giving the ships the appearance of skeletal creatures with the flesh eaten away.

"I next found myself at my station within the largest of the ships. The spaces were close and blinding with the radiance of glassy coils pulsing with lightning. Voices flat and monotonous echoed through the passageways. The voices contended with sounds like the beating of hearts of rusting iron and the piping of startled sea birds.

"As we made to cast off I was seized with a fear I have never known in the waking world. Water rose swiftly around the ship, flooding the cavernous harbor and all was black outside. The vessel leaped into the darkness with the power of a tchk’akora taking her prey; its speed was terrifying and the pounding of the ship’s iron heart was matched by my own.

"I would have swooned with this great fear but for the appearance of Master Rigger Tirgash. He did not speak but gave a look of reproach which brought me back to myself. With his strong hands he gripped his flail while his nimble hands tied and untied knots in his sash. This I regarded with apprehension; it is not a habit of the genuine master rigger.

"On rushed the craft into the abyss, driven by its own mysterious might as well as the torrent pouring from the tunnels of the harbor. Suddenly the bow pitched up sharply, pinning me to the bulkhead and my stomach dropped as the craft broke forth from the top of a great swell and crashed upon the watery slope.

"I saw the sea with the vision of dreams and the swells were mountains black and glassy, topped with foam like wind blasted snow. The shadowed valleys between the swells were too deep to be seen from the dizzying heights and I screamed, breaking the hold of sleep but so potent was the dream that it pulled me back to my station aboard the eerie craft with no chance for respite in the waking world.

"I came to know that we were bound for a singular point on the eastern shore of Kraamoch, which is known in the waking world as the port of Molkoth but was termed ‘receptacle’ by the officers. The men of this dream world were grim and silent but admirably suited to their lives upon the churning sea. No motion of the tossing ship could disturb their poise, although they frequently resorted to the childish expedient of walking on feet and hands when the rolling and pitching were at their worst.

"Discipline was harsh; I took the stripes more than once for offenses I could hardly fathom, though pain is a phantom in dreams. More disturbing was the moribund aspect of the master rigger, a hale fellow in the waking world. His luxurious indigo fur had turned frosty gray and he spoke no words save those of correction or cruelty. I feared him more than the tumbling waves and the ceaseless lightning tearing the leaden skies for I knew his stark presence was a portent of disaster.

"Night and day we mounted the swells and sounded the valleys between. Never did the lightning cease. Never was a star or a patch of blue to be seen. On some nights I found myself topside, unaffected by weather and waves in dreamlike fashion, marveling at schools of luminous fish keeping pace with the mad dash of our vessel. The fish were pleased to ride the stormy sea; to swim was all joy and delight for them and their presence cheered me. But presently shapes blacker than the sea would stretch forth from fearsome depths and close in from behind. Out would go the little lights.

"At dawn I found myself topside again, now under the influence of wind and waves. Here I must say that the dream ceased to be a dream; all my senses were fully engaged and I knew the passage of time as in the waking world. Before me stood the master rigger in heavy weather gear, his flesh and fur shrunken to naught but a covering for bone, his eyes vacant, his voice hollow and ghostly.

"’To you it is given,’ he said, pointing to starboard with his flail, its tails screaming as they flew in the gale. This salutation brought the full force of the raging elements to bear; I fell to the deck, all arms and legs wrapped around the wildly pitching railing. No sailor relies upon any strength save his own but this mountainous ocean was too much for me; I cried out to The Commander Of The Sea, appealing for His protection.

"As I raised my eyes from their attitude of prayer I saw with the vision of all the saints above, perceiving that the dry land was being devoured by the rapacious sea. A mountain of water, its summit lost in clouds and lightning sped toward the helpless craft, pulling all waters into itself. Within the swelling mountain were all manner of ferocious beasts like the emblematic creatures of all the Lordly Houses and I saw the ancient dragon, the murderer from the beginning, arching her spiny back, swiping her bloody claws, crouching to leap upon us from the midst of this abominable host.

Sunlight was upon me when I awoke, drenched and exhausted. Master Rigger Tirgash had called the morning watch to their stations and came to find me when I failed to appear. I screamed at the sight of him and he went to fetch the surgeon; by the time he returned I was nearly myself. The surgeon cleared me for duty but the master rigger ordered me to make my report while the dream was fresh in my mind, perceiving its significance.

On no account must Your Majesty’s imperial poise be disturbed. All is in order. The ship’s scribe is a simple mute with no memory, this facility having been dissolved by the Fleet Alchemist upon the scribe’s acceptance for imperial service in accordance with regulations issued by the Ministry of Naval Records. The second ordinary rigger is known to be illiterate and his tongue has been cut out. Master Rigger Tirgash is an imperial relative and may be relied upon in any case.

Your humble subject submits this report to Your Majesty for examination by the priests of The Mighty in accordance with the Imperial Command regarding all signs, wonders, dreams and visions as may pertain to the longevity of the royal house. Shall the priests of Mighty Oranthus, God Over All, find comfort in such a dream?

May Your Majesty have mercy upon his humble subject!

The Whirlpool

I know that men are like the grass of the field and life is a vapor but how can I forget those rough and ready souls I lost to the glassy, staring sea? The fair tropical breeze, the blazing pearl of the moon and its sweet touch upon my island wife, a growing parish here beneath the endless sun; can such things give pleasure without pain? Are they the rewards of faith or the torments of failure?

The God won’t say, not even when the tide goes out and the top of the rotting mainmast rises like a skeletal finger pointing its accusation. Pa-pa, say my children, why do you stare? Why pour our wine upon the sand, praying with a catch in your voice? Why the tear?

I tell them as much as The God tells me. Someday He will answer and so will I.

My first parish was a merchant ship at sea. Early